


two months

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Not Leo Fitz Friendly, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 19:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10472322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy keeps getting the most annoying questions from the press.(Written for the Cousy Fest 2017 - prompt: MARRY ME QUAKE)





	

She still can’t get used to seeing herself onscreen. It’s like a weird dream. It’s like seeing a stranger with her features and… why is her face always like that? So serious. Does she look so serious to people? Plus she looks so awkward from her. All stiff answering the reporters’ questions.

The questions.

Right.

Because it doesn’t matter how many people you save, or that you work your ass off all over DC to counteract anti-Inhuman legislation. If you are a woman you will get these questions. Every freaking time.

“It’s the third time this week,” she says, running her hand through her hair, looking at the shot where they decided to film the passionate public waiting for her this morning.

She doesn’t mind the t-shirts and the signs asking for her hand in marriage - well, she minds that part, it’s embarrassing, but also flattering in a way - but she can’t stand all the questions from the reporters that follow, intrusive questions about her private life. Questions she always deflects.

“Maybe you should start answering,” Fitz, who has been watching the news with her, comments. “You just sound like you have something to hide, they’ll assume you’re a lesbian or something.”

He makes a little noise, pleased with his wit.

“And they assuming I’m a lesbian would be bad because…?”

Fitz turns pink. “Because - _nothing_. It would be perfectly fine,” he declares, his voice getting very high and very Scottish on the _fine_. “But you are not. Or are you?”

He looks doubtful and Daisy is trying to decide between a murderous stare and a classic eye-roll when there’s a knock on the glass door behind them.

“Agent Johnson,” Coulson calls from under the doorframe.

“Agent Coulson,” she replies, turning a bit so that Fitz can see the smile that doesn’t match the tone.

“A moment please,” he says, waving a folder.

She nods, marching out the common room.

Having been gone all morning Daisy imagines there’s a fair amount of paperwork for her to catch up with, she doesn’t question Coulson coming to fetch her.

She follows him for a few steps and then Coulson pulls her with him inside a dark supplies closet, one they have used before for this very purpose. He slides his mouth over Daisy’s, hard, harsh in a good way, and she realizes they haven’t seen each other since she slipped out of his room, discreetly, before sunrise, after hurried kisses full of gross morning breath. Daisy was called to the Capitol and then got delayed by the irrelevant reporters’ questions. She thinks this is the first time in two months they haven’t had breakfast together. Or lunch. She smiles at the ordinary desperation of his lips, and his fingers grabbing her hip and tugging her against him at the same time as he pushes her against one of the shelves in the room. She likes the idea of Coulson quietly missing her when she is gone, missing her mouth, her breasts, her legs, the sound of her voice. His grip seems to say so, rooting her to the spot while his tongue works his way into her mouth. Daisy’s hands, on the contrary, are not so decided and they go everywhere all at once, his neck, shoulders, his back. 

They kiss for a long time before either of them speak.

“How long were you standing there listening to us?” she asks.

“Enough,” he replies.

“Enough?”

“I’m sorry the press is bothering you.”

She shakes her head, feeling like it’s a silly thing to complain about, with all the other stuff going on right now. Coulson kisses her again, this time it tastes like he is trying to make her feel better about this, or trying to distract her. His mouth, with the familiarity of two months, and the newness and excitement of two months. His mouth on her throat, trailing downward. A few nights ago he played some Brazilian jazz record while they were having sex and now Daisy keeps remembering the tune, and the voice of some old lady singing something melancholic, all the time, humming it while she works, getting aroused just thinking about it, and she’s hearing it now, it’s kind of ridiculous. 

Anyone could open the door at any moment, but it’s not like they have been particularly discrete these past two months, and it’s a miracle how people like Fitz can still be oblivious to what’s going on. Not that they agreed to hide or anything, but it’s fun to sneak around.

They haven’t exactly talked about it, and that suits her just fine right now - between politics and dangerous missions, this is something bright and safe. Coulson adores her, she feels no need to include other people in this so far. And so they stay in this really-not-secret state.

“So what’s the folder about?” Daisy asks when she pulls her mouth away from him for a moment, to catch some air.

Coulson’s eyes dance.

“ _Nothing_ , it’s empty.”

He opens it so she can see.

Daisy laughs.

“You’re a bad influence,” she tells him.

“Mmm,” Coulson doesn’t dignify that with a reply, he just kisses her again.

She laughs again and he tilts his head upward, looking happy with her reaction. Okay, she was looking a little gloomy back there when he found her. The whole “tell us about Quake’s private life” deal was seriously stressing her out, more than she wanted to admit. (She is not a public person, she doesn’t know how to do the finer print in the superhero contract.)

Coulson’s mouth again, now worrying the spot under her left ear, softly tickling.

“Maybe I should just show up one day with one of those MARRY ME QUAKE signs, so you wouldn’t have to answer silly questions anymore,” he jokes.

“Not the proposal I would expect from Phil Coulson but okay,” she jokes back, turning her head and kissing his neck.

“So you have… _expectations_?” he asks, more or less casually.

Daisy can feel her face heating up, and she pulls away, meeting his eyes in a hurry.

“No, wait, that’s not…” she tilts her head and glares at him.

Coulson almost laughs and grabs her head and kisses her forehead magnanimously, a kiss that’s familiar and surprising.

Two months, she thinks, it’s too soon to be talking about this. But not too soon to be joking about it. Two months, or more like five years, if she is being honest. Coulson’s face doesn’t look conflicted at all. He only loosens his grip on her hips 

“It’s fine,” he tells her. “But I’m getting one of those MARRY ME QUAKE t-shirts in case you change your mind.”

“That’s very wise of you,” she says, unlacing her hands behind his nape as well, but running her fingers through his hair one last time before she has to let him go, they have to let each other go. But she is liking the idea that for once someone will have to wait for her to catch up, that for once she doesn’t feel like she is going to lose something by taking her time. 

She’s been in love with Coulson forever, and she’s only started being in love. If he were to ask her to marry him right now she’d say yes, and that’s exactly why it doesn’t have to happen today. Or tomorrow. But tomorrow she hopes she’ll get to have breakfast with him. And lunch.


End file.
